


Be Your Shadow

by jordazfen



Category: Love Rosie (2014), The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Love Rosie, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordazfen/pseuds/jordazfen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiss me with your fist it's all right<br/>Wrap your hands around my throat I won't mind<br/>I'm permanent, now I won't go<br/>I just wanna be your shadow</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Your Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, so I'm doing something new...  
> If you have seen Love Rosie, then it's essentially that but with Bellarke so I'm kinda rewriting the movie for them  
> BUT if you haven't seen it then please read because I can 100% assure you it's the cutest love story in the world and then you can watch the film and come back and cry with me :):):):)  
> It's also pure torture to watch but anyway let's move on!!  
> The title is from 'Be Your Shadow' by The Wombats which I think totally sums up Bellarke so yeahhhh. I hope this story gets finished because I'm excited for it!  
> PLEASE DONT NOT READ BECAUSE YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE FILM okay lets go  
> Also please imagine it is set in America and ignore the fact they're all drinking at 18 okay AU America where the legal age is 18.

_Just breathe Clarke._

She told herself, eyeing the happy couple as they talked intently over their champagne glasses.

 _He’s your best friend… he always said it would be you who would give the funny speech. Just start at **The Beginning.**_ _Start with a joke about how you never thought he would be married because he is an absolute douchebag (but maybe not like that). Talk about when you first met, Raven’s 6 th birthday party:_

“I’ll tell my mommy on you if you don’t give it to me.”

“No.”

“It’s pink.” The young girl said, smirking at the bright pink space hopper the boy was sat on.

“I had it first.” He protested as his arms folded across his chest.

A voice called over to him from the near by gazebo, “Bellamy Blake give the young lady the space hopper.” It was clearly his mother, matching his looks and wearing a beautiful pink sundress all whilst cradling a screaming infant in her arms. The young boys expression turned dark as he kicked the space hopper over to Clarke.

“Thanks Bellamy.” She said, drawling his name whilst fixing the plastic tiara on her head that had gone askew.

“Leave me alone you… you… Princess!” He scowled before bawling his eyes out and running to his mother.

“It’s Clarke!” the young girl huffed before bouncing away on her newly acquired space hopper.

She smiled at the memory. _I still hate that nickname._

She glanced down at the crumpled paper in her hand, with several bullet points scrawled down on elements of their friendship that she wished to cover whilst addressing the crowd.

_Tell them all about that math class at the age of 8 when you wrote him a note:_

‘ **I KNOW THE F WORD** ’ she wrote in extremely neat script, perhaps too neat for an 8 year old. She thurst the paper into his hand, watching his eyes light up. He scrawled back, ‘ **Please tell me :) :)** ’. Of course, Clarke would never want to keep such an exciting find to herself, even though she blushed a little when she wrote it down and handed the little note back just as the teacher was strolling past the desk, catching a glimpse of the blunt word written.

That was the day Bellamy found out that stuffing a piece of paper in your mouth with the word ‘fuck’ on it would not get you out of tidying up the classroom after art and a phone call home to your mother.

_And that ever since you shared your dreams (even Bellamy’s crazy ones), your life would never be the same._

“I had a dream last night.” He exclaimed as he burrowed further into their blanket fort, pressing skip on their Walkman to the next track in Jake Griffin’s Ultimate Mix. “Y’know a tree, well I was a branch and there was a parrot, sitting on me.”

“That’s crazy, you can’t be a branch.”

“Try telling the parrot who sat on me that.”

They both giggled before Clarke reached out and gave his hand (which looked funny, his olive skin against her pale complexion) a reassuring squeeze, as if to say ‘Your dreams may be weird, but I’ll always be there.’

_Actually… maybe miss that part, keep that as our secret._

Raven interrupted Clarke from her deep thoughts,

“Clarke it’s almost time.” She said whilst knocking her fork against her glass, the sympathetic look in her eyes not quite masked by her reassuring smile.

_Tell everybody that this has to be one of the happiest days of my life._

“Everyone, hello… hi.” She gave a little wave to the crowd, all dressed in their finery, trying to calm the shake in her hands as she read over her list one last time.

“For those I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, hello, my name’s Clarke,” she looked down at Bellamy, his suit fitting his broad shoulders perfectly, his renowned smirk giving justice to his wedding day.

“I’d never thought Bellamy would be married. Which may sound kind of rude, but after knowing him for over 20 years, it’s hard to believe he would find someone willing to put up with him for the rest of their life.”

Laughter rippled among the crowd, the younger Blake sibling nodding in firm agreement as she leaned into her husband Lincoln.   

“And I have to say, this is probably the happiest day of my life.” She glanced down at him, Bellamy’s eyes crinkling at the corners, his lips twitching into a genuine smile.

But of course, she’d never been more wrong about anything in her whole life.

 **1 2  Y E A R S  E A R L I E R**  
Clarke’s 18 th Birthday Party  
(most of which she was too drunk to remember, lets blame that one the tequila slammers.)

Her parents had hired out one of the biggest clubs in the city, known for hosting the best foam parties and having the best DJ’s.

Everyone that Clarke had invited (including Jasper Jordan and Monty Green, the two sweetest yet nerdiest people she knew) had been buzzing about it for weeks, deciding what to wear and how to wear it.

Clarke Griffin’s 18th Birthday Party was going to be the IT THING.

She’d been so excited for it that when the event finally came, she couldn’t help but drag Bellamy away from his friends to dance with her as ‘Crazy in Love’ came on. He was very clearly saying the words ‘No’ and ‘You know I don’t dance’ but she couldn’t hear anything above the sound of Beyoncé and the alcohol rushing in her veins. He gave her that iconic Bellamy eye roll before joining in her frantic jumping when the chorus hit, surprisingly singing along which sent Clarke into a fit of laughter.

“Give me more!” Clarke shouted as the bartender (who really didn’t want to be babysitting a large group of drunk teens) placed two shot glasses down on the bar, pouring more tequila into them. She forced Bellamy to do that thing where middle aged women link their arms and then drink, forcing him to down it all. “And another!” She called to no one in particular, just hoping someone else would bring her another drink.

“Hey Clarke, maybe you sh-“ His face scrunched up as she shoved a lemon wedge into his open mouth before he said something she didn’t want to hear. She grabbed a second slice and bit down on it herself; the bitter juice spread across her tongue, making her body fizzle where before it was numb. She screwed her eyes as tight as she could whilst the music vibrated through her body, getting lost in that perfectly sweet moment.

“Oi!” Bellamy called as he pulled the wedge out from between her teeth, drawing her out of her weird experience, only for her to break into a fit of giggles. Clarke Griffin was inexplicably and inexcusably off her face. She lifted her hand to Bellamy’s lips, wiping away a stray drip of lemon juice that he failed to notice himself, sucking it off her thumb. Her face screwed up again, causing Bellamy to laugh deeply. Once more, every pore in her body fizzed and felt alive, but this time she was sure it wasn’t because of the lemon juice. More to do with how close she was to Bellamy.

She knew every freckle, the angle of his jawline (they measured it when they were 15, it was in fact 37.4°) and the infinite darkness in his eyes, but it felt different this time. The loud music had suddenly faded, along with the chatter of the guests and the swirling lights. It was just her and Bellamy.

But the moment was hesitant. Unsafe… territory waiting to be discovered. Their breath mingled as they looked at one another, foreheads lightly touching, too much would be criminal. Then, of course he would give her _that_ smirk, flashing his white teeth at her as she let out a breath. He moved ever so slightly closer, his nose tickling the end of hers and this time, it was her turn to laugh.

It was almost as if kissing one another would be dangerous, their lips ghosting over one another, her bottom lip touching his top one for a fraction of a second before pulling her head back ever so slightly, only to repeat it moments later.

Then as if they shared one brain, one singular thought made the two lean into one another, their lips pressing together as if it were meant to be.

Her pores radiated lust and passion as she feel deeper into the kiss, Bellamy following as she parted his lips and his tongue explored hers. She tasted like alcohol and it was only moments before she slipped of her chair and landed face first on the floor. Bellamy in all fairness was shocked, then offended (because he knew he was a great kisser. Unless it was too good and she collapsed?) and then panic as he knelt beside Clarke, pulling his cell out of his jeans and calling 911.

 


End file.
